


Bed of Thorns

by Katsitting (Nekositting)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood Kink, Bondage, Breathplay, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Psychological Horror, Rape/Non-con Elements, This messes heavily with consent, Virgin Sacrifice, You Can Play Kink Bingo With This Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-10-28 12:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17787302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekositting/pseuds/Katsitting
Summary: It was a steep price to pay, but who other than Harry to pay it? It was only one night. One life.





	1. My Name is Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> A nice teaser for the Kinky Valentine's Day to be had. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy before I dive into the good stuff. Just a word of warning, it's going to be a bumpy ride later so heed the tags.

 “You can’t _do_ this!”

Harry sucked in a breath, his back to the crowd of people at his back.

It was time.

This was the night.

“Stop. _Stop._ You can’t bargain with a demon, you _can’t.”_

Harry began to move, his bare feet gliding on the ground with a wet squelch. He paid it no mind; the clumps of dirt wedging between his toes were the least of his concerns.

_Tonight was the night._

He was leaving them all behind.

Hermione. Ron. Neville. Luna.

Harry would die. He had to. It was the only way to stop their town from rotting away until all that remained, all that was left, was ruin.

The monsters had already taken his parents. They’d been lost before Harry had even known there was a war in the first place, and now—

Sirius was lost too. The monsters had stolen him just as the creatures had poisoned their crop and devoured their cattle.

Harry swallowed hard to fight off the swell of emotion that overcame him.

Sirius had promised that he’d come back. It was only meant to be a short trip, to gather some fresh fish and supplies in anticipation of the grueling winter coming their way.

His breaths hitched, his eyes beginning to burn at the corners.

Sirius was gone and the group that had gone with him.

Harry squeezed his hands into fists, ignoring the shouts at his back. His gaze fixed on the wide expansive landscape on the outer outskirts of the town. Beyond everything he had known and where the demon waited for his willing sacrifice just on the other side.

 _I shall save you_ , the demon’s words echoed in Harry’s head. Loud and clear. The vibrations in the demon’s baritone resolute and powerful. No one could misunderstand the demon’s terms. _But you all must do one thing for me._

At first, the Council had balked. A life was precious. There were so few of them now.

_But then we’d lost a whole group of our men in a single night._

So when the demon came the second time, honey on his tongue and shrouded in darkness, they listened. They’d lost too many. They couldn’t afford to lose any more.

There was no other choice.

_Consider it collateral for the services I will provide._

Harry didn’t stop walking in spite of the cries at his back, of the grunting and shouts bouncing off his eardrums. Not when his mind kept turning back to the second time the demon had come to their village, hidden behind a cowl of darkness not even the sun could penetrate.

“Harry!”

Harry closed his eyes at the same time he stepped past the barriers. The cries cut off, as if someone had shut a thick and heavy door. He would never see his friends again.

Unease speared through him instantly. The magic buzzing over his fingertips did nothing to quell it. Harry doubted magic would ever chase that thrill away. Not when he was alone and beyond the safety of the barrier. There was no taking this back, no turning on his heel and running back to safety and the friends waiting for him.

Harry let out a sharp, nervous breath before he opened his eyes.

The unease clinging to his senses bloomed into full-blown fear.

It was shadowy, the landscape spreading and twisting in front of him like a writhing mass of eels. He’d never been beyond it before, never been a witness to the awesome power of the world lurking past the pulsing warmth of their walls. He’d only ever heard the stories, second-hand accounts of what lurked out there.

He hoped he didn’t live long enough to regret this.

Harry swallowed back his nerves and began to walk once again. A chilly breeze fanned against his skin, wedging between the folds of his toes, into the bare skin of his arms, and beneath the sacrificial robes he’d put on.

_One pure of heart, body, and mind._

The demon’s words echoed in Harry’s head, and he stumbled, nearly dropping to his knees. The weight of what he was going to do, of who he was about to _meet_ hit him all at once.

It was stupid. So, so _brash_ and yet—

_Bring them to me, and the tides of this war shall change. No more of your kind will be lost. I will save you from extinction._

Harry had to do this.

There was no one left to meet the terms of the devil lurking in the depths of the forest—there were no innocents left. The monsters had taken their children and most of their women. Harry was the only one that would do, the only one that’d managed to remain untouched.

_Your sacrifice will not be for naught._

Clenching his hands into fists, Harry steeled himself and pressed forward. A thrill rushed through him at the darkness that met him on the other side, the landscape suddenly expanding before him.

This was the danger of leaving their haven. Nature couldn’t be trusted. It was a maze, a labyrinthine plane that betrayed and turned on all that dared to trek through it. Harry recalled all the stories Sirius had told him, of the trees that would transform into camouflaged predators, of the rocks that would sharpen to points and stab into the leather of their sandals.

Except—

Harry gasped when a path began to bleed into existence on the ground. The grass gave way, flowers and greenery bloomed on either side of this flat trail. It almost looked...pretty. A hint of spring in a world of winter.

Suspicion writhed in his stomach, but he didn’t run from this. He stepped onto the path, following it down wherever it might lead.

_‘How do we know, if we decide to go through with this, that you won’t let them die before they get to you’_

_Harry listened from behind the door, his hand over his mouth to still his breaths. He wasn’t supposed to be there. Only the elders were permitted to meet with the demon. But there he was._

_‘That is of no concern to you. The sacrifice will arrive, rest assured.’_

The demon had promised that nothing would harm him, and Harry was inclined to believe him. If only to make the situation easier to swallow.

After all, if Harry died, the demon would never get his payment.

* * *

 

Harry didn’t know how long he walked over this path, crushing flowers beneath his feet and drowning in the smell of springtime.

It was strange. Time worked in a funny way here. There were no stars above him and the sun overhead was muted, duller than Harry ever remembered seeing. It didn’t compare to the shades of yellow on the dandelions beneath his feet or the sunflowers that grew off the sides of the pathway.

_Harry…_

He froze and turned to glance behind him, certain that he’d just heard his name. It had sounded like it had come from behind him, far enough to be faint but close enough that there was no doubt in his mind that it hadn’t been something he’d made up.

“Who’s there?”

Swallowing, Harry tried to settle the rush of adrenaline in his blood and the twisting in his stomach.

There was no response. It was only the sound of the wind rustling the grass that met his ears.

 _Okay_ , his unease cresting into dread, _just move. No one's there. No one’s here._

Harry renewed his movements.

His breaths evened out after minutes of walking through the path.

But nothing he told himself, nothing he did, could erase the niggling thought that he was no longer alone.

* * *

 

Harry ran.

A snap of a twig had all but forced him into a sprint. He didn’t know what was happening, if he was making all of this up or if there was something out there with him, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

_Harry…_

He panted as he ran, his skin becoming so slick with sweat that his sandals had become slicker than a fish. He kept slipping in them. God, he could fall. He could make one wrong step and then—

_Stop it._

Harry didn’t stop until the sunlight began to leach from the sky, even when the whispers had long since ceased. All that remained was the flutter of the leaves and the crunch of his feet on the dried leaves on the ground.

And yet—

Harry found the situation all the worse for it. He was alone.

There was a certain finality to that thought, to the dimming light and the growing tendrils of shadows that followed his every footfall. There was nowhere he could look to, no one he could turn to, that could erase the fact that he was alone.

That it would be dark soon.

Harry clenched his eyes shut, swallowing back his breaths and his panic like he was running out of air. Maybe he was. Maybe he hadn’t left his home at all and he’d fallen into the river bank that winded on and on in their little village.

His throat began to burn. His lungs screamed. He wasn’t breathing. He couldn’t _bloody_ breathe.

_God, I’m—_

Harry’s legs collapsed beneath him, his eyes shooting open with panic. His hands scraped along the dirt, rocks and the spines of dried leaves cutting into his palms. The sting hardly registered, not when his mind was racing, when the sun was now hanging so low in the sky.

_Oh god, I can’t breathe. I can’t—_

“Harry Potter.”

The voice was like the crack of a whip.

Harry didn’t think. He snapped his head to his left after scrambling to his knees, his eyes training on the army of trees at least a yard from the path he’d collapsed on.

But there was no one. Nothing but a blur of black and brown, of smudged greens and a dying skyline.

_Please._

His palm found its way to his chest, his fingers curling over the fabric for balance, for _something_.

There was something there. Someone. He didn’t know how he knew. He simply did. The knowledge of it was suffocating, unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

Harry tried to suck in a breath, but his breaths would not come. It was like the air had become gelatinous and solid. Like he was trying to inhale tar through his nose and gaping mouth—

“My little golden boy.”

The world was spinning. The ground, the trees, the path, and the sky had all become a massive splotch of color.

“Welcome home.”


	2. Close Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here you have it.
> 
> It's been a month since I posted the first chapter. I hope what is to follow makes up for the month-long wait. As mentioned before, all the tags become relevant now. Heed them.
> 
> Thank you, stuffles for betaing. This was definitely a lot to tackle for one human being haha.

Everything was darkness.

It choked him. There was nowhere to turn that wasn’t a bottomless ocean of black. It was in his lungs, twisting and writhing inside him. Like it wanted to fit inside his intestines, inside his stomach, inside his lungs, inside his  _ mouth _ —

_ Harry… _

The voice came and went. Distorted yet all too clear in the black swallowing him up.

He didn’t know where he was. Why he was there when he’d been certain he’d been in the woods, running and running and  _ running— _

_ From what? _

Harry tried to piece together the thoughts in his head, but it was like trying to trap a butterfly within his palm. A hot pursuit with no possible end.

_ Harry… _

A voice called to him in the darkness. It was…familiar. But where had he heard it? It didn’t sound like Ron nor anyone he’d ever talked to before.

_ Wake up. _

Harry blinked, a wave of confusion flooding him.

The shadows began to undulate around him, like someone had cast a stone into the glassy surface of a lake. He sucked in heavy breaths through his mouth as he watched the millions of ripples in the black. Relishing in the taste of oxygen, in the easy way his lungs expanded and contracted, and—

All of his memories flooded through him.

His hands wrapped around his neck in an instant, the realization enough to make his fingers shake with renewed horror. As if he were back in that forest, as if he were once again struggling for air.

_ God. _

He’d been  _ suffocating _ . Something, someone, had been choking him. How could he have forgotten?

The memories didn’t stop coming.

The dirt trail burst from out of the darkness, the daffodils and the sunflowers a bright streak of yellow in the dark.

_ Harry… _

More voices crept over his senses, growing louder and louder with each beat of his heart. Until the voices were no longer whispers, no longer the faint susurrations of a ghost.

They shouted his name. Loud enough for his ears to ring and for each syllable to melt into one great echo in his head.

_ Harry. Harry. Harry _ .

He trembled from the onslaught, head spinning.

_ God, please let this end.  _ The voices were driving him mad.

_ Harry. Harry. Harry _ .

He opened his eyes, unsure of when the abyss had become the forest or when his friends had made their way from their village and to that winding trail—

Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna.

Why were they here? They didn’t belong in the forest. And  _ god _ , why was he hovering above them?

The vision had him reeling.

His friends were standing near that dirt path, twirling in a great circle with their hands clasped together. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen them this happy.  _ Smiling. _

Then, a streak of red caught his eye, jolting him like a bolt of lightning in the night sky.

_ It was almost _ —

Viscous and thick, the red gleamed wetly between the blades of grass. 

— _ almost like blood? _

The idyllic image melted into something out of a nightmare.

His stomach turned, what he’d eaten hours before threatening to crawl up his throat and spew into shadows.

Harry wished he hadn’t looked. The longer he looked the more convinced he became, the more certain that—

It was  _ blood _ . Wherever their feet touched the ground, red began to flood the green. It was oozing from the soles of their feet, the tiny gashes he’d failed to notice in his confusion becoming more and more pronounced with each step they took.

Harry tried to move, to drop to the ground and stop them from spinning and spinning and  _ bloody  _ spinning with those grins on their faces. The darkness refused to let him go, however. It latched onto him, held him up and away from where his friends continued to giggle and laugh like they weren’t in pain—

Until their joyous cries morphed into blood-curdling screams.

_ Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry. _

Harry didn’t look away, didn’t dare to. It’d be useless. Even if he managed to rip his eyes away from the horror in front of him; he was certain he’d still be able to hear them. Smoke began to rise from where their blood soaked into the grass, as if their blood alone was enough to set the trail ablaze, to turn the grass into a deep, charcoal black—

_This can’t be_ _real_ , Harry thought. _This is a dream. Just a nightmare._

The voice had been right.  _ Had  _ to be right.

Hermione’s head turned toward him, and Harry tried not to flinch. There was something in her eyes, a gleam in them he knew all too well. Tears were dripping down her cheeks, her face sagging with distress and pain.

Yet still, she smiled. Through the screams, through the pain, her lips curved into a horrifying smile.

_ Harry _ .

Her voice cut him. He’d never wanted to run and hug her as much as he did at that moment. He wanted to wipe that cruel smile from her face, to take away that pain. To stop them all from spinning and spinning and  _ spinning— _

_ Please. _

Harry heard the plea, even through the chorus of shouts.

_ Please. _

Hermione spread her arms wide. A sense of foreboding bloomed low in Harry’s stomach.

Her smile spread into a grin. Her eyelids drooped, almost as though she could no longer stand to stay awake. Sweet and relieved.

Panic overtook him in an instant. He’d seen that look before. He knew it. How couldn’t he know it? It was the same look Sirius had given him before he’d left. Harry thought he might be sick.

“No!” 

Then, she was falling, falling, and  _ falling _ . Harry could only watch.

The grass had never looked more lethal. Like sharp blades waiting to cut into soft skin. Stab and pierce and—

_ No. No. No. _

“Hermione!”

“ _ Wake up, my little golden boy.” _

* * *

Harry jolted awake with a cry, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

_ Hermione _ .

The dream had been so real. Too real. More real than the rocks and dry twigs biting into his back, than the night sky over his head and the dirt between his fingers.

But Hermione hadn’t really been here. It was only him, alone. His friends were safe.

The relief barely took the edge off the unease swimming in his bloodstream, however. 

“ _ Harry Potter. . . _ ”

Harry felt every muscle in his body lock.

_ That voice. _

He knew it. It was the same voice he’d heard right before he’d collapsed onto the ground, his lungs screaming for air. It was the same voice that had whispered in his dreams, that had said his name in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

_ Mocking reverence? Fondness? A combination of the two? _

Swallowing, Harry forced himself to sit up from the ground. His spine protested at the movement, but Harry refused to show weakness now. He’d had enough of being powerless, of doing  _ nothing. _ He was there to change the tides of this war.

He had to find the demon he’d sold his life to.

A figure cloaked in shadows stood amongst the trees. Alone. There were no sounds of animals rustling about in the bushes nor even the faint whistle of the wind slipping through the gaps of the broad tree trunks. It was unsettling.

_ Like how he imagined prey felt like when they were being stalked by a predator. _

“Who are you?” His voice was rough even to his own ears. Brittle and weak from disuse.

The figure didn’t move nor speak. There was no indication that it had even heard Harry’s question.

Harry’s hands curled into fists to fight off the wave of apprehension the silence elicited.

“Were you the one that cursed me?” Harry pressed, forcing himself to stand before a wave of vertigo hit him. He stumbled but caught himself just as his knees threatened cave underneath him.

_ Get it together, Harry _ .

This wasn’t the time to show weakness. Not when he had company, a monster waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce.

_ Though why would it wait for me to wake up? _

“And if I did?”

Harry took a step back against his better judgment. That voice again. The same one from his dreams. It belonged to that shadow and—

The figure spoke again, bringing Harry’s racing mind to a halt.

“What will you do, my little golden boy? Will you run back from whence you came?”

The figure began to approach him, gliding along the path without a sound. Harry swallowed hard, scrambling into motion to keep a safer distance between them.

The figure did not stop. Harry grit his teeth to stop from  _ bolting _ out of the forest, to keep his pace steady.

“Or will you stay? Assume the role that you’ve been slated to play?”

Harry stopped moving at once.

… _ Bring them to me, and the tides of this war shall change. No more of your kind will be lost. I will save you from extinction… _

The realization of just  _ who  _ this figure was hit him like a slap to the face.

“You’re the demon,” Harry said, the hairs on his arms standing on end.

The figure didn’t respond. Harry resisted the impulse to wilt beneath the silence. Instead, he squared his shoulders and met the demon’s approaching form head on. His stance didn’t waver even when the demon finally stopped in front of him, their closeness making a shiver crawl up Harry’s spine.

From where the demon had stood, he hadn’t looked nearly as intimidating. But now, with the demon only centimeters from his own clothed chest, Harry wasn’t so sure.

The demon was easily the tallest being Harry had ever met, towering over Harry as if Harry was nothing more than a  _ child _ . Harry’s neck was beginning to cramp from maintaining that awkward position.

“Yes. Though, that is not my title.”

Harry’s breath caught when, what could only be the demon’s hands, slipped out from the sleeves of his cloak.

Instead of the desiccated and gnarled palms Harry had been expecting, he was met with the sight of slim fingers and perfectly manicured nails that were unlike Harry’s own nail-bitten ones.

“My name _ — _ ” The voice had gone so soft that Harry almost couldn’t hear it through the sudden rush of blood flooding his ears. “ _ —is Lord Voldemort.” _

Then, Voldemort’s hands began to pull back the hood of his cloak to reveal what lay underneath

_ What if he was deformed? What if he was going to eat him whole, chew him up before spitting him out? _ Harry’s thoughts were racing, bounding away from him like a terrified rabbit. It was possibly the longest minute of Harry’s life.

The hood fell back and Harry’s thoughts dissipated like smoke.

The face staring back at him was not the monstrous visage he’d been imagining. No. The man gazing back at him had, possibly, one of the most beautiful faces Harry had ever seen. It was almost painful to look at Voldemort, to take in the slant of his cheekbones and the swell of his plump lips. God, and his  _ eyes— _

“Now, tell me,  _ boy _ .”

Voldemort’s eyes were pools of nothingness. Darker than the abyss Harry had seen in his own dreams.

A lump formed in Harry’s throat that refused to go down. Whether that lump was a breath or a word, Harry didn’t know. 

“Will you stay—” Harry’s took in a sharp breath the moment Voldemort’s lips curled into a smile, sweet and beatific.

Voldemort’s hands fell to Harry’s shoulders, and Harry’s knees buckled. A jolt of something hot and unfamiliar suddenly flared in the pit of his stomach.

Harry made no move to shrug the limb off. It was like he’d been possessed, like he’d been—

Voldemort leaned in, and Harry’s gaze instantly fell to pink and soft lips. His breathing became harsh at the same time a cold sweat began to form at the nape of his neck.

_ Oh. _

Voldemort’s mouth hovered inches from Harry’s own open mouth. Close enough to taste his breath. Close enough for Harry to lick his own lips, for his own mouth to water with a sudden need to taste.

_God._ It was overwhelming and lovely and pathetic. This desire bore down on him, crushing his will to bits. Foreign and invasive and _wrong_.

_ So so wrong. _

“—or will you go?”

Harry blinked through his arousal, trying to knit together his thoughts. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to string them together, but once he did, Harry could have laughed.

There was only one answer. One choice.

“I’ll stay if you save them,” Harry said mere seconds before Voldemort’s lips touched his, a wet and forked tongue smearing a thin line of saliva against Harry’s bottom lip. A gasp bubbled up Harry’s throat, his hands coming up to wrap around Voldemort’s neck, to draw him closer and closer and—

_ More. _

The thought both startled and thrilled Harry. Harry tried to make sense of it, of the millions of strange emotions churning in his belly, but this want  _ couldn’t _ be his. It couldn’t possibly be his. 

_ This isn’t what you’re here for. _

Harry was supposed to die. When he’d set off on this trip, Harry knew that he wouldn’t be going back. That he was never going to see his friends again.

_ Fuck _ .

Harry didn’t flinch when his robes were torn off his shoulders and a warm hand began to trail down the back of his neck, slide between his shoulder blades and splay over his lower back. A low sound left him, soft and desperate, making his cheeks burn with embarrassment and shame.

_ What are you doing, Harry? _

But before Harry could pursue the thought, Voldemort’s hand sunk into his hair. Harry leaned into the touch, relishing in the sensation of the man’s nails scratching at his scalp.

“As you wish.”

Harry moaned as Voldemort wrenched his head to one side to expose his throat to demon’s lips. Harry sighed into the touch, his fingers clutching at the demon’s cloak for purchase.

“I will  _ save _ your people.”

Harry’s gaze flickered to Voldemort’s, then. Something in his tone, in the burn of the demon’s stare on his exposed flesh, urged him to.

Harry’s veins flooded with ice.

Voldemort’s had gone  _ red.  _ None of the black remained. Even his pupils had morphed into mere strips of black that looked more monster than man.

_ No. Oh god. What have I done? _

“W-wait,” Harry protested, shoving against Voldemort’s shoulders. But the demon refused to move. Instead, he yanked Harry closer until their bodies were pressed together and buried his face into Harry’s neck, a hot mouth kissing along Harry’s pulse point.

_ This isn’t right. _

Harry gasped when Voldemort’s teeth sank into his skin, the jolt of pain enough to jumpstart his struggling. This was too fast. Too much. He needed a moment, a second to collect his thoughts and—

“Stop!”

A reproving noise was all the warning Harry had before tight coils wrenched his arms away from Voldemort’s shoulders, a tight pressure snaking along his wrists and hoisting them above his head.

Harry’s chest exploded with terror.

“What are you doing?”

Voldemort laughed into his neck as if delighting in his panic, his  _ fear, _ before pulling away. Harry flinched at the sight of those inhuman eyes and the sharp row of teeth gleaming back at him. Voldemort was becoming less and less human by the moment. As if he were— _ oh god _ —shedding his own skin like a snake.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Voldemort’s lips stretched into a grin, his face beginning to peel and chip away like the paint on an old wooden chair. Harry tried to swallow through the lump in his throat to no avail. “Are you afraid?”

Harry shook his head, denying it, but Voldemort interrupted him.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Then, Voldemort shoved him.

Harry hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the breath right out of him. He was too stunned to be properly upset.

“Not to me.”

“Fuck you, you bastard,” Harry snarled once the shock had passed, latching onto the familiar rush of anger Voldemort’s actions inspired. It was better than the fear, than the—

Harry cried out when the coils squeezed his wrists with enough force to cut into his skin and pinned his arms to the ground. Squirming, Harry tried to pry them from his arms, to buck and kick himself off the ground. But it was useless. The bindings were unyielding.

With a frustrated huff, Harry forced himself to focus on the monster looming above him.

A feeling of dread pooled low in his stomach at the dark look in Voldemort’s gaze. Harry tried not to squirm beneath his intense scrutiny. Recalling, in that second, that he was  _ naked _ . That he  _ had _ been since—

“If that is what you most  _ desire _ .”

Voldemort didn’t give Harry time to register what his words meant.

With a violent grip, Voldemort’s hands gripped Harry’s leg and forced it up and over the monster’s shoulder. Harry cried out, his teeth catching on his cheek to stifle the sound when something bony and hard— _ his bloody knee, maybe _ —pinned his other leg to the floor by his thigh, exposing him to Voldemort’s fiery eyes.

_ No. No. Please. _

“Oh, none of that.” The voice was chastising.

Harry let out a shriek at the same time Voldemort buried his nails into his inner thigh and pulled, dragging cruel and jagged lines from the top of his thigh and down to where his ankle rested on Voldemort’s shoulders. Something hot and viscous ran down his leg. Harry didn’t need to see it to know that it was his blood.

“M-monster.”

Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, but Harry refused to let them fall. Instead, he shot the beast a look of pure loathing. Voldemort smiled before he yanked out the fingers still buried in Harry’s wounded leg and sucked those fingers into Voldemort’s mouth. Disgust churned in Harry’s stomach at the sight.

“You taste utterly divine, Harry.”

“And you’re—” Harry’s never got to finish the sentence.

Voldemort’s lower body pressed against his, the feeling of something hard and thick grazing against his own soft flesh enough to render him mute. Heat burned up Harry’s cheeks, his fingers closing into tight fists to stop from writhing on the ground.

“What were you saying?” Voldemort purred at the same time he thrust against Harry’s flaccid cock, wrenching a choked moan from Harry’s throat. “Do go on”

Harry pressed his lips into a hard line, refusing to dignify that with a response. Voldemort’s expression only grew more amused, more terrifying and gruesome as the peeling flesh of his face revealed hints of gleaming scales beneath.

_ God. _

“I’m interested in hearing what it is that you have to say.”

Harry’s hips jerked when Voldemort’s hand suddenly curled over his hardening cock and stroked him, his thumb gliding gently over the head. The pleasure shocked him. It shouldn’t feel good. It had no business feeling this—

Voldemort’s hand didn’t stop. He squeezed and kneaded Harry’s prick, that cruel thumb stroking and pushing into his slit with precision. Harry’s toes curled, his belly tightening with the shocks of pleasure each movement elicited.

“Y-you’re—” Harry’s words melted into a groan when Voldemort’s squeezed his shaft hard enough to hurt. This was beyond Harry’s limits. His own days of sitting on his cot and taking himself into his hand were gentle and lulling, but this? This was  _ nothing _ like that. 

“ _ Fuck. _ ”

Voldemort’s laughter filtered through Harry’s senses, forcing him to glance away from the hand stroking him with barely suppressed violence to Voldemort’s face.

“S-stop it.”

A thrill of horror spiked up Harry’s spine when Voldemort’s face twisted into one of consideration at the same time the hand on Harry’s shaft quickened, when the wet  _ schlick, schlick, schlick  _ of his prick drowned out Harry’s own haggard breaths. Harry writhed on the forest floor, biting his tongue hard enough to bleed, but nothing seemed to take the edge off.

He was burning, his insides melting and twisting and cramping with the threat of his oncoming release.

_ No. No. _

“I said  _ stop _ .”

Voldemort lost the considering expression he’d donned, his eyes flashing with something violent and mischievous that made Harry’s heart stutter in his chest. Oh  _ god _ .

“I don’t think I will.”

Harry keened when Voldemort’s face turned to kiss his thigh, sucking along the skin until his tongue teased around the wounds he’d shred into Harry’s leg. Harry’s hips jerked, his cock throbbing within Voldemort’s grip at the twin sensations.

_ This felt— _

Voldemort’s long and forked tongue plunged into the incisions in his thigh, pushing in and twisting inside. A shock of agony rushed through Harry’s senses, his legs kicking and jerking in Voldemort’s grasp. Voldemort’s held him fast, however.

“P-please,  _ oh god.” _

Harry shut his eyes the very instant Voldemort’s gaze shot to his, but it was too late. He’d already seen Voldemort’s flushed cheeks and mouth red with Harry’s blood. It was obscene. Utterly repulsive and disgusting, but—

If not for Voldemort’s hand sliding down the base of Harry’s cock and squeezing until Harry’s insides ached, Harry was sure he would have come apart.

“God isn’t here right now, my little golden boy.”

Harry slumped to the ground when Voldemort’s mouth finally pulled away from this trembling leg, the hand on Harry’s cock falling away to smear Harry’s fluids against that same thigh. Harry’s nose wrinkled with disgust but didn’t dare look down. He didn’t want to see.

Not when he knew what he’d find, when he knew that his prick was hard and oozing, and Voldemort had a direct view of his own shame.

“All you have is  _ me. _ ”

Harry bristled at the comment, but he bit his tongue to stop from taking the bait. The last thing he needed was to provoke Voldemort, to incite Voldemort to—

“But you knew this already, didn’t you?”

Harry winced when Voldemort dragged Harry’s other leg up and slung it over his other shoulder, exposing more of Harry’s body to Voldemort’s gaze. Harry’s cheeks burned with shame even if he wasn’t looking directly at Voldemort. He didn’t need to look to know that Voldemort was looking straight at him, devouring his every reaction. Voldemort’s eyes were like a burning caress.

“That your race has been abandoned.”

“Shut up!” Harry hissed, eyes snapping open to shoot Voldemort a glare. Harry’s earlier embarrassment and shame eclipsed by his anger.

“That you’re all that’s left of a dying breed. I  _ mourn  _ for you, little Harry.”

Harry snarled at the same time Voldemort pressed into him, crushing him beneath his body weight and forcing Harry’s body to bend in a way it had never had before. It bloody  _ hurt _ . 

His body wasn’t made to bend like that. His lower back was completely off the ground, his knees grazing against tufts of dry grass at either side of his head. His stomach ached from the strain.

“It’s a shame.”

Voldemort pressed his forehead against Harry’s, his eyes so close that Harry could note each fleck of red and burgundy in Voldemort’s irises. Harry sucked in a harsh breath at the same time something hot and wet skimmed against his arse, touching a place no one had ever touched before.

“What are you doing?” Harry squirmed, but at the sound of Voldemort’s sudden moan, Harry froze.

It wasn’t possible. Voldemort couldn’t be—

“Get  _ off  _ of me.”

Harry yanked against the bindings pinning his hands to the ground, kicking with more desperation than he had moments before. He needed to get away, to bloody  _ move _ . If his suspicions were correct, if what was wedged between the crack of his arse was what he  _ thought  _ it was, he had to get  _ away _ .

“Are you reneging on your agreement, little Harry?” Voldemort’s tone was teasing, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of threat beneath them. Harry stopped, his mouth going dry.

“No, I’m—” Harry couldn’t bear finishing the sentence. Voldemort’s eyes were boring into his, the heat of his breath fanning against Harry’s cheeks and parted mouth.

_ This isn’t what you came here for. _

Harry slumped into the ground, the fight draining out of him. That’s right. He had left for a purpose. He was there to save his friends.

“—I’m not.”

“Are you certain? We could stop this all right now if you wish.”

Harry bit his cheek at the same time Voldemort let go of his leg and gripped Harry’s shaft. The heat of it, the sensation of that finger sliding on the underside of his cock and settling over his slit, was enough to make his insides churn in his stomach.

It was awful, that feeling. It was like it had never left him in the first place, like his arousal had always been hibernating inside him, waiting to burst the instant Voldemort touched him again. Harry wanted to be sick.

“No. Please, I—” Harry wanted to choke on the words, to bite them back and never let them out. But he knew what he had to do. He knew it. Had known it. The fact that what Voldemort wanted from him was completely contrary to his expectations didn’t matter.

His body. His soul. His heart. His mind. He’d give it all up if it meant saving his friends.

“—Go ahead.” The words were weak to Harry’s ears. So faint that Harry almost missed them through the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. “Do it. I won’t fight.”

Voldemort’s face emptied of all expression, but his eyes. They were burning, scalding him from the inside out. It was like he could see into Harry’s mind, could read all of the doubts and fears from a mere glance. And maybe, Voldemort could. There was no telling the kind of power Voldemort had. He was a demon and a powerful one at that.

“Excellent choice.”

Voldemort’s face fissured, the last bit of humanity Voldemort had left, falling away. Harry tried not to flinch when pieces of Voldemort’s skin landed on his face and chest.

“Spread your legs.”

Harry looked away, unable to bear looking at the monster as he moved to do just that. It was strange, how mere moments before, he couldn’t think of anything but the heat in the concave of his stomach and the taste of Voldemort’s mouth. Harry had been all too willing to let Voldemort take him.

_ Until the beast revealed his true face... _

There was no mistake that Voldemort had bewitched him. For how else could Harry still be hard? Voldemort’s mask of humanity was gone, but Harry’s desire, Voldemort’s influence, wasn’t. There was no doubt that Voldemort had done this on purpose.

Voldemort was  _ cruel _ .

“Look at me.”

Harry bit his lip. The last thing he wanted to do was look at Voldemort’s horrific face as he defiled him, but—

_ You’ve already made your choice. Your life for theirs. _

Harry opened his eyes and tilted his head in Voldemort’s direction.

The sight of Voldemort’s grinning face was enough to make his prick soften in the monster’s hold. If Voldemort noticed, he didn’t comment on it, however.

“Good  _ boy _ .”

Then, Voldemort was fisting his shaft. Harry’s spine arched, his mouth falling open with a startled gasp at the jolt of pleasure that sparked through him. His thumb flicked and nudged over his slit at the same time Voldemort’s hand—the one not jerking him off—slid down from his trembling legs and to the crease of his arse.

A wet and sticky digit pressed up against his arsehole, breaching him with just the tip of it, and Harry couldn’t contain his gulps for air. The sensation was strange and foreign, but it did nothing to quell the heat sinking low in his stomach. He was so hard it hurt, so aroused he was sick with it.

“You’re so delightfully tight, Harry.”

Harry's cheeks burned with shame, his gaze landing on where Voldemort was stroking him. The sight of his cock weeping blobs of his pre-come only made his cheeks burn all the hotter.

“No one has ever had you back here, have they?”

Harry swallowed, summoning what little dignity he had left to shoot Voldemort a sharp look.

“No.”

Of course not. Voldemort wanted a virgin. To go contrary to the agreement, to try to deceive Voldemort would do no one in the village any good. This...might not have been what Harry had anticipated, but he certainly wasn’t an idiot.

“Good.”

There was no warning. 

Harry screamed so loud his ears rung with it. Voldemort had shoved two fingers inside him. Nothing could have prepared him for the invasion.

_ “Sto—”  _ Harry cried out when Voldemort wrenched the fingers out only to plunge them back in, setting a brutal pace Harry had no hope of keeping up with. Harry jerked and fought against the intrusion, but there was no escape. Not when Voldemort settled his full weight against his body, bending him in the middle until Harry let out a pained groan and his knees pressed against the ground. 

Voldemort’s eyes watched it all, his gaze as invasive as the fingers twisting and curling inside him.

_ Please. _

Harry’s body locked, his mouth falling open in a silent scream when Voldemort nudged something inside him. His vision went white, his toes curled, and his eyes rolled back. 

_ What? _

Then, as quickly as the fingers had been stuffed inside him, they were gone. His hole was quivering from the loss, his mind still reeling from the shock of pleasure that had consumed him mere seconds before. It should have relieved Harry that Voldemort was no longer buried knuckle deep inside him, but couldn’t scrape up the energy to be. Not when Voldemort had made him lose his mind like that, not when Voldemort’s fucking eyes had focused on his hole and the hand gripping on his cock refused to  _ stop _ .

_ Don’t look at me. Don’t— _

Harry had never felt more tempted to shut his eyes than at that moment. He didn’t want to see this, to feel Voldemort’s eyes boring into his  _ rim  _ like that. To know that at any moment, Harry would come. There was no mistaking it. There was a pressure pushing against his navel, insistent and nagging. Tantalizing.

_ Please, god. _

“I wonder. . .”

Something snaked along Harry’s knees and thighs from somewhere beyond his view, forcing him to maintain that uncomfortable position. It dug into the skin, jarring the wounds still bleeding over the top of his left thigh.

But not even the pain was enough to distract him. Not when he was—

“W-what are you doing?” Harry hedged, uncertain if he even wanted an answer. Voldemort didn’t glance away from Harry’s hole, even when his lips curled into an indulgent smile. It was too sweet. Horror flooded Harry’s veins.

“Tasting the spoils.”

Voldemort pressed his mouth against Harry’s rim, his tongue plunging inside and twisting inside him. Harry cried out, shifting and fighting against the restraints holding him down. It was useless. There was no escaping the bindings, no expelling that tongue and that hot mouth kissing and sucking the furled skin.

“That’s-that’s  _ disgusting _ ,” Harry gasped out, a full-body shudder racking through him when Voldemort shoved a finger in along with his tongue. It twisted inside him, curled and nudged along the walls. It was almost like Voldemort was looking for something, but what that was, Harry didn’t know.

“Oh  _ god.” _

A surge of ecstasy shot through him all at once. It was enough to blind him, to make his eyes roll back and his mouth fall open with a sharp cry. It was the same dizzying sensation as before, the same soul-sucking pleasure that threatened to rend him in two. 

Voldemort curled his fingers once again, and Harry was weeping. He couldn’t stop writhing, couldn’t stop from gyrating against Voldemort’s tight fist on his prick.

Tears were streaming down his cheeks, his mouth unable to fall shut when Voldemort kept nudging that place, kept jerking him and torturing him. It was too much. God, it was so fucking  _ good. _

The heat of Voldemort’s mouth dissipated as quickly as it had come, forcing Harry to blink open his eyes and look. He almost wished he hadn’t.

Voldemort was watching him, his rosebud lips dripping with saliva and his cheeks flushed a delightful pink. He was hideous and beautiful and monstrous at the same time. And god, every time Voldemort twisted that finger, shoved it in and hooked it, Harry couldn’t bloody  _ think _ , he couldn’t—

“M-more.”

Harry didn’t know where that word had come from, why he had even said it, but it was like a dam had cracked.

“More, p-please,  _ more.” _

Voldemort’s face broke out into a grin, and then, before Harry could even think to stop him, to reconsider what it was that he’d said, Voldemort was up on his knees, his hand prying open his cloak and fishing out his cock from inside. Harry’s breath stuttered to a stop, the heat building inside his belly not enough to eclipse the horror now blooming in the back of his mind.

It was too big. Voldemort was thick and long and- _ and— _

“ _ No _ ,” Harry said at the same time Voldemort lined it up against his gaping hole, still wet with Voldemort’s saliva.

“Nonsense.”

Voldemort shoved inside him without hesitation.

Harry screamed, his fingers biting and cutting into his palms when Voldemort didn’t wait for him to adjust. Voldemort pushed into him before pulling back out, until only the head of his cock remained inside and then shoved back in.

The pain was indescribable, it was like Harry had been speared through, as if Voldemort had fucking torn him in  _ half _ .

“N-no, s-stop.”

Voldemort caught Harry’s bouncing cock and stroked it at the same time he set a brutal pace, mercilessly rubbing against Harry’s walls, diving deeper and deeper until Voldemort was stuffing him full. A sob erupted in Harry’s throat when Voldemort pressed closer to kiss along his face, his tongue catching and lapping at the tears rolling down Harry’s cheeks.

“Your tears are exquisite, Harry,” Voldemort purred against his skin, his mouth falling away from Harry’s cheeks to close around Harry’s earlobe and bite. A cry left Harry’s mouth at the sting, at the constant abuse of Voldemort’s dick inside him. He wanted to die.

He would have preferred Voldemort had just killed him than—

Harry’s spine jolted with ecstasy. 

“That felt good, didn’t it?” Voldemort whispered into his ear, mocking and amused. Harry couldn’t reply, not when Voldemort rolled his hips and hit that spot again, robbing him of his senses.

“Did you think that all I would do is cause you pain? No, my little golden boy, that simply wouldn’t do.”

Harry couldn’t stop moaning and writhing. His hips were pushing against Voldemort’s hand, consumed by the heat of Voldemort’s body and the pleasure singing in his blood.

_ Yes. _

The pain was gone. All that remained was mind-numbing pleasure and the pressure beating against his navel. He was getting close again. He could taste it in the back of his mouth, choking and overly sweet and intoxicating. He needed to-to—

“Do you want to come, Harry?” Voldemort whispered, biting along his ear before dragging a long, forked tongue down to the side of his throat. Harry’s head fell to one side to give him better access, to let him consume him. His touch felt so  _ good _ . He was almost—

Harry whined when Voldemort suddenly let him go, his weeping cock slapping against his belly. The loss was enough to make him curl his hands into fists.

_ No. No. Please. Come back. _

“I asked you a question.”

Harry screwed his lips into a snarl. Voldemort was  _ mocking  _ him.

“I could leave you like this, little Harry.” Voldemort rolled his hips into him to punctuate the words, nudging that spot inside him until Harry’s annoyance melted into nothing, his world narrowing once more to those pleasurable shocks.

“Leave you desperate and wanting, could make you crawl on your hands and knees until I saw fit to let you come.”

Harry whimpered at the mental image, disgusted with himself at the way it made his cock twinge.

It was pathetic.  _ He  _ was pathetic. At just the slightest bit of attention, he’d—

“Ah, you’ve tightened around me. The idea of me making you beg arouses you.”

Harry shook his head to deny it, but at the roll of Voldemort’s hips and the bite of Voldemort’s teeth against his neck, he was lost once again to Voldemort’s touch.

“There’s no need to be ashamed of your desires. They are perfectly natural.”

Harry wanted to disagree, to argue against that, but at the feeling of Voldemort’s fingers sliding up his cock and flicking his head, Harry’s words died. Instead, he jolted against the touch, writhing and twisting and shifting for more. God, this was driving him  _ insane. _

“Tell me that you love this, Harry, and I’ll let you come.”

Harry whimpered when Voldemort released his cock once more. Harry’s prick twitched from the loss. Harry bit his cheek to stifle his curse. Voldemort watched him all the while, his hand coming up to curl beneath his chin in a look of utmost patience.

Harry wanted to punch him.

“Go on.”

Voldemort pulled out of him, slow and methodical and aggravating, and shoving back in. Harry’s head snapped back, his teeth catching on his bottom lip.

“There is no one here to see you come undone, but me.”

Harry knew this. It was only him and the demon in this clearing. His friends weren’t there to see him, but how was this any better? Debasing himself in this way? Telling him that he- _ he— _

Harry couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t.

“How disappointing. But no matter.”

It was all the warning Harry received before Voldemort’s palms slid up against his stomach, teasing around Harry’s hard cock, but never quite touching it.

“We do have all evening.”

Harry choked on his spit when Voldemort’s fingers flicked his nipples, rolling the buds between his fingertips tips. Harry’s back bowed, his eyes sealing shut when Voldemort began to move once again.

It was maddening. His navel tightened, his own release beating against him once more from the sudden assault.

Harry was certain he could come from this alone. He’d never thought his nipples could be this sensitive, that such a place was somewhere inside him, a place that could make his blood burn and spread through him. But god, it was real. So fucking  _ real _ .

_ Please. _

His balls tightened with his release, ready to burst. At the bite of Voldemort’s fingers squeezing him, Harry nearly came undone, nearly tipped over the precipice, but then, Voldemort stopped his touches as quickly as they had come.

“No!” This was painful. This was the worst kind of torture. This was the third time he’d been denied. He couldn’t stand this.

“What are the magic words, Harry?” Voldemort murmured from above him, his inhuman eyes spearing him with a look so mocking it made an anger so primal flare in the pit of Harry’s stomach. Harry bit his tongue.

_ Don’t say it. Don’t say it, Harry. _

“I-I,” Harry started before stopping, his face so hot with embarrassment and shame he couldn’t stand it.

“Yes?” Voldemort murmured, his eyes taking on an interested gleam. A hand fell away from Harry’s nipple to stroke higher up his chest, to settle over the breadth of Harry’s neck. Harry wondered if Voldemort could read his pulse, could feel for himself just how fast his heart was beating in his chest.

“I  _ love _ it.”

Harry’s words weighed heavily on the silence had fallen between them. Taunting and damning. Harry’s fingers itched to cover his face, to hide from both his shame and embarrassment.

_ Why did I say that? _

“Oh, Harry,” Voldemort murmured. His eyes were like lit matches, the desire and satisfaction in their depths enough to make Harry glance away, to stare up at the strange sky above their heads.

“Of course you do.”

Voldemort snapped his hips, and Harry had no time to brace himself. It was like Harry had flipped a switch. Voldemort was no longer nudging, no longer grazing that spot inside him. He knocked into it, buried in and out of Harry’s arse with enough force to make his own prick slap against his stomach, to make him weep and cry out.

_ “W-wait.” _

Voldemort was done waiting. His hand slid over his prick and stroked it, finger digging into his slit. Harry couldn’t stop moaning and twisting within his grasp. Not even when Voldemort’s other hand curled around his neck, clamping over his throat, did he stop.

Harry’s eyes burned from the sudden deprivation of air, but still, he couldn’t stop pushing into Voldemort’s hips with a jerky twist of his own. He needed this. God, he needed to come. He couldn’t—

“How wonderful you are,” Voldemort said from clenched teeth before a breathless laugh escaped him. “So contrary and  _ hypocritical.” _

Harry couldn’t speak through the hand squeezing around his throat, robbing him of his breaths and his words and his sanity. He was going to come. He was going to die and god, let him  _ die  _ after this—

“And so very  _ human _ .”

Harry came at the same time Voldemort let go of his prick and pulled out of him, depriving Harry of any further stimulation.

_ No. No, he’d promised. This isn’t what he wanted! _

It was the most painful orgasm he’d ever had. Harry cried, begged and twisted. Still, Voldemort made no move to touch him, to pleasure him through his orgasm. He left him to suffer through it alone.

“No!” Harry’s cock was bobbing on its own, his semen spilling from the tip and splattering his face and chest with his essence. There was no satisfaction or bliss. He was cold and empty. His eyes fell away from where his cock lay oozing against his stomach open to Voldemort’s predatory gaze.

“Unsatisfying?”

Harry couldn’t bring himself to reply. He’d  _ begged _ . He’d fucking  _ begged  _ to come, and Voldemort had  _ ruined it.  _ Harry felt neither relief nor satisfaction. He might as well not have come at all.

“Oh, no need to fret, my little golden boy.”

Voldemort’s cock grazed his hole, breaching him. Harry froze, a dawning sense of horror rendering him mute when Voldemort’s hands pressed on either side of his head.

_ Please don’t tell me _ —

_ “We’re  _ far _ from finished.” _

* * *

 

Harry trembled, a thin bead of sweat dripping from his hairline and down the slope of his back. He was on his hands and knees, Voldemort’s body draped over him as Voldemort buried into him over and over again.

Harry didn’t know how long he’d been in this position, how long Voldemort’s hands had trailed down his spine before raking his sharp claws along his back until he bled, until he’d never be able to look at himself in the mirror without seeing Voldemort’s marks along his flesh.

“P-please, no more.”

Harry couldn’t come anymore. He’d orgasmed at least seven times after Voldemort had ruined his initial orgasm. At first, he’d relished the pleasure, the rapture of Voldemort’s mouth kissing along his neck, biting and chewing on his skin, so long as he could come.

But Voldemort hadn’t stopped at his second orgasm. Nor the third. Nor the fourth.

With his cock spent, soft and furled, Voldemort ripped orgasm after orgasm from him. It was excruciating. It was too much. So much. He couldn’t stand the feeling of Voldemort’s hand fisting his prick or the push of Voldemort’s cock nudging at that place inside him. Harry’s eyes were puffy and aching from sobbing through it all, his mouth wet and dripping with his spit from screaming his lungs out.

He had no dignity left to even fight now that he was unrestrained. What did it matter? He was exhausted.

“Satisfied?”

And if that wasn’t enough, each and every instance he climaxed, Voldemort asked him the same bloody question. As if he didn’t tire of Harry’s pained replies and begging.

_ Are you satisfied? _

Harry lost track of the many ways he’d said “ _ yes _ .”

“Please, no more,  _ no more _ !”

Voldemort’s fingers curled around his shaft, teasing it with the sharpened points of his claws. It drove him mad, his body couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stop its shifting and squirming. His arms shook with the force of his tremors, but still, he didn’t dare change position.

The last time he had, Voldemort’s hand had slapped his arse until he couldn’t bear it.

“One more.”

Harry shook his head, another sob wracking through him when Voldemort’s hand began to stroke him. He couldn’t come anymore. It was impossible, it was—

_ Please. Please. Please. Please. _

Harry came with a pained cry before collapsing on the ground. His hands were shaking, his legs boneless and useless. His vision was spinning so fast he couldn’t make sense of the world around him. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep until he couldn’t wake.

_ Pretend that this was all a nightmare and that he was back home with his friends. _

_ “ _ That should be enough.”

Harry didn’t move when Voldemort pulled out of him, something sticky and wet oozing from his spent hole. He didn’t need to look to know what that was.

“You’ve performed remarkably, my little golden boy.” Voldemort’s voice came from somewhere above him, ringing out in the clearing like a thousand voices were calling out to him. It made the hairs on his arms stand on end, even as his exhaustion weighed him down.

Harry’s eyes drooped, the weight of his eyelids dragging him under.

“ _ Sleep _ .”

Harry fell into the darkness, unable to resist.

* * *

 

When Harry regained consciousness, he awoke to a world of shadow and crumbling buildings and the stench of smoke.

Harry’s mind was still sluggish, his body swaying and tilting from one side to another. He didn’t know how he was standing. His knees were still quaking from Voldemort’s—

A jolt swept through him, the memories of what he’d done beating against his skull. Nausea curled in the pit of Harry’s stomach, and before he knew it, he was on his knees, expelling everything he’d had in his stomach.

It wasn’t much of anything. All it did was burn and flood his nostrils with sickness, but Harry couldn’t stop.

It wasn’t until he heard a sharp scream in the distance that he could lift his head from where he’d pressed it into the ground.

_ Where am I? _

He didn’t recognize the village. There were no signs to identify the place. It was like a dragon had decided to stalk through the town and raze it to the ground.

“No, s-stay back! Stay back you  _ monster _ .”

Harry jumped, and then instantly regretted the sudden move when a sharp pain rocked through him.  

_ Fuck. _

He swallowed hard to bite back to pain, to force himself to move in spite of it. He had to move.  He  _ knew _ that voice. It was Ron. Only his voice could still crack after growing past puberty.

_ Oh god, please let that not be him. _

Harry was running before he could stop himself, plunging through the center of the village and past broken buildings and toppled carts. His body ached for him to stop, but Harry refused to falter. The silence that followed the scream was somehow worse than the sound itself had been. If you could scream you were alive, if you couldn’t, you were—

_ No. _

Harry winced at the pain that jolted through him when he jumped over a fallen tree, its branches blackened by the flames that nipped at it from the surrounding buildings. He could still feel Voldemort’s essence inside him, the bite of his nails raking across his back and the tears along the inside of his arse after being taken over and over again.

He shouldn’t be walking, let alone  _ running _ . But he couldn’t stop. He had to know. He had to  _ see. _

Harry cast his gaze around him, a lump settling in his throat when the buildings became more and more familiar the deeper he went.

_ Oh god. _

This couldn’t be. This  _ couldn’t  _ be. 

But it was. This was his home. There was no mistaking it. The longer he looked, the more the buildings resembled the clearings and the holes he used to play in when he was young. The green building with the roof blown off was where he’d first met Hermione, her nose stuck in a book in spite of the beautiful weather outside.

Harry turned a corner, running past the old library and the makeshift butcher shop, only to stop dead in his tracks. His heart was beating so fast in his chest he thought it might burst.

_ No. _

Bodies were strewn along the ground. All belonging to people he’d laughed with, had played with, had  _ fought  _ for, while he was growing up. 

_ Neville.  _ His face was staring unseeingly up into the sky, his body bent and gnarled in a way no human body should. And there were more, just like him. So many  _ more _ .

Harry dropped to his knees, tears springing from the corners of his eyes that he couldn’t contain. He couldn’t even scream despite the sound beating against his throat. 

“Ah, there you are.”

Harry didn’t turn at the voice. He already knew who it was.

“I was wondering when you would finally wake.”

Harry opened his mouth but no words came. He couldn’t look away from the bodies piled all around him. Harry’s fingers curled into fists.

“W-who?” Harry ripped his gaze away from all the bodies to settle on Voldemort’s form.

He was standing in front of the Elders’ hut, his face no longer inhuman. He was back to the beautiful creature that had met him down the winding path, that had seduced him with his magic and his pretty words.

“I did.”

Harry’s breath caught. He had to have misheard. Harry was mistaken, surely. Voldemort had  _ promised. _

Something must have shown on Harry’s face because Voldemort was suddenly smiling. Harry’s insides churned at the reminder of what he was capable of, of what that monster had done to him.

“I promised you that I would  _ save  _ them. That you all would not be lost in this war.”

Harry jumped to his feet within seconds, a strangled sound escaping his lips.

_ He had promised. He had— _

“And I have. Not one of you will be led astray, shall suffer no more.”

Voldemort began to move, side stepping the bodies piled on the ground. Harry couldn’t move. He was frozen in a mask of disbelief and horror. They couldn’t all be  _ dead _ . They couldn’t all be—

“Why?” Harry said, his voice strangled and weak. He needed to know, to understand. Why were they dead? Why had he killed them? Why did he have to take everything from him?

_ Voldemort had promised. _

“Why?” Voldemort parroted back as he prowled toward him. “The fools thought they could use me as their pet, that _ I  _ would be nothing more than accessory. I could hardly stand the insult.”

Harry swallowed hard at the venomous expression that twisted on Voldemort’s pretty face, at the sharp teeth and brilliant red that flashed in the wake of his hatred. 

“They wanted me to  _ save  _ them from extinction. As if there was a need for an entire  _ clan  _ of humans to fulfil that promise.”

Voldemort eclipsed the space between them within a blink of an eye, a hand smoothing over Harry’s cheek in a gesture that was more a parody of affection than genuine. Harry wanted to be sick.

The anger quickly dissipated from Voldemort’s face, as if it had never been. He was smiling once more, beautiful and dulcet. 

“But Lord Voldemort is not an unkind master.”

Harry didn’t know how to react. Voldemort was insane. Bloody  _ mad. _ He had killed them all for something so  _ slight _ , so _ — _

“I left one alive, just for you.”

Harry choked, unable to breathe through the smoke in the air and the pressure of Voldemort’s gaze on his.  

Someone was alive. Someone was  _ alive. _

“That Granger girl put up quite the fight.”

Voldemort’s other hand smoothed over the side of Harry’s face, pushing Harry’s face so close that all Harry could see were Voldemort’s dark and bottomless eyes.

The eyes of a monster.

The eyes of a killer and—

But Hermione was alive. Hermione was alive.

_ But he’s taken everything else from you after you gave him everything. _

_ “ _ Quite the inconvenience, that one. But—”

Harry didn’t know when Voldemort’s lips pressed against his, sweet and chaste. Harry couldn’t think to fight it, shocked and horrified all at once that Voldemort had kept someone alive for  _ him _ . 

“For your services, _ for my  _ immortality _ ,  _ I can make an exception.”

 


End file.
